


things i remember

by noonlighted



Series: dream smp fics [2]
Category: Minecraft (Video Game)
Genre: 2020 L'Manberg Election on Dream Team SMP (Video Blogging RPF), F/M, Gen, Ghost Wilbur Soot, L'Manberg War of Independence on Dream Team SMP (Video Blogging RPF), Manberg-Pogtopia War on Dream Team SMP (Video Blogging RPF), Memory Loss, Wilbur Soot Angst, Wilbur Soot and Technoblade and TommyInnit are Siblings, cute wilbur n niki stuff, do i ENJOY making myself sad?, shipping the characters not the real people goddamn, sleepy bois inc - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-12
Updated: 2021-01-04
Packaged: 2021-03-11 04:35:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 4
Words: 2,671
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28029405
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/noonlighted/pseuds/noonlighted
Summary: "𝘚𝘰 𝘺𝘰𝘶'𝘳𝘦 𝘴𝘢𝘺𝘪𝘯𝘨...𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘥𝘰𝘯'𝘵 𝘳𝘦𝘮𝘦𝘮𝘣𝘦𝘳 𝘢𝘯𝘺𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨?""𝘕𝘰, 𝘯𝘰. 𝘐 𝘳𝘦𝘮𝘦𝘮𝘣𝘦𝘳 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘴.""𝘉𝘶𝘵 𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴?" 𝘏𝘦 𝘨𝘦𝘴𝘵𝘶𝘳𝘦𝘴 𝘵𝘰 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘨𝘢𝘱𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘨𝘳𝘦𝘺 𝘤𝘳𝘢𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘸𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘓'𝘔𝘢𝘯𝘣𝘦𝘳𝘨 𝘰𝘯𝘤𝘦 𝘴𝘵𝘰𝘰𝘥."𝘕𝘰𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴," 𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘢𝘺𝘴, 𝘲𝘶𝘪𝘦𝘵𝘭𝘺.Wilbur begins to write down everything that he can remember from when he was alive.
Relationships: Niki | Nihachu/Wilbur Soot, Wilbur Soot & Technoblade & TommyInnit & Phil Watson, Wilbur Soot/Sally the Salmon
Series: dream smp fics [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2055483
Comments: 19
Kudos: 31





	1. prologue

**Author's Note:**

> this part is :/ just wanted something to introduce/explain the fic! it's gonna be short oneshots, around 1000 words or less. (based off of wilbur's book "things i remember" that he wrote after the explosion. 
> 
> pear

"So you're saying...you don't remember anything?"

Wilbur shakes his head. The air shimmers. "No, no. I remember some things."

"But not this?" He gestures to the gaping grey crater where L'Manberg once stood. His eyes seem desperate, almost angry.

"Not this," he says, quietly. "I'm sorry Tubbo, I don't know what Wilbur did, but I really don't remember it."

The boy sighs. You can't reason with dead men. "Look, Will—"

"Ghostbur."

"What?"

"Ghostbur. That's my name. Please don't call me Wilbur anymore."

Tubbo isn't used to this, this strange formality, this stiff politeness, as if they had never met before. "Sorry. Ghostbur." He sighs, closing his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose the way Phil used to do when he was at his wits' end. "Look, why don't you write down what you do remember? And that way we can figure out how to get your memory back."

"I'm not sure if I want my memories back," the ghost mumbles, his eyes sad and silvery. "From what I can tell, alive Wilbur wasn't the best."

Tubbo pauses. "Yeah, I guess you're right. Well...I don't know, maybe just do it anyway. Just to see if there's any patterns or something. It could be good for you."

Ghostbur nods solemnly. "Okay Tubbo."

"Look, here's a book and quill," he says, rummaging through a supplies chest. "Why don't you get started now, let's call it a project."


	2. the one she deserves

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _niki, the smell of bread_
> 
> cute niki and wilbur stuff. also psa!! all the people i write about i view as characters, not the real people. thank you.

The first thing I remember was a bed that wasn't my own. Red and white tartan duvet, dried lavender bags on the bedside table. Morning light shines through the thin voile curtains. Singing from downstairs, and some wondrous smell. Fresh bread. The room seems to echo some sort of warm safeness and I am in love, in love with the world. Tulips are coming to bud in the small garden outside my window.

I come downstairs on light feet, eyes still weary from sleep. _Niki, Niki, Niki_. She smiles at me as I open the kitchen door, bare-faced, her hair tied up in a messy ponytail. The lights seem to dim around her. _Imagine being that bright_ , I think. Being that bright that everything seems faded in comparison.

She grabs my hand, or perhaps I offer it, I can't quite recall. We sway in the early morning silence. I remember the odd desire for the world to end right then and there, for us to be buried under layers and layers of soot and stone—a fossilised moment. That millions of years from now, people would come across our bones in the shell of a broken bakery. But I shake the image from my mind. She looks up at me, her eyes full and wide and blue, the morning light haloing her blonde hair, and I'm certain she's an angel. "Let's stay here forever," I whisper, kissing her nose.

She laughs at me, wiping floury hands on her apron. "Okay."

She feeds me glace cherries straight from the container, sticky and red, and I laugh and laugh and we spin around the kitchen, holding each other always, until we are dizzy and stupid and the oven pinger goes off. _Let me keep her_ , I think, pink-cheeked and breathless. _Let me be the one she deserves._

Then she leads me to the wizened apple tree in her garden and tells me to close my eyes. She kisses me gently, and I place my hands around her waist as though I might break her. As though she were some small, fragile thing that might blow around in the wind. We stand barefoot in the rain-damp grass. The sun has barely risen but I am here, raw and scratching with life.

"Will?"

"Yeah?" She's running her hands through my hair, and I close my eyes. I can feel her breath on my face as she talks, sweet from the cherries and the bread. I kiss her nose, pink from with cold. _All I want is you. You in your perfect self._ (Perhaps I'm perfect to you too?) I don't know how to love you the best, or even particularly well. But I know that with you, it's easy. With you, I don't even have to think.

And I will try to love you, in my incompetence and my lips sticky with cherries and legs weary with dancing and your eyes, oh your eyes, white-blue like a November sky. "You hold me like the world is burning," you said once, laughing, your palm soft under my chin. (I was so afraid of it. Of the flames in my dreams, that incessant crackling in my ears, the smoky smell that seemed to follow wherever I would go.)

"Do you think—do you think everything will be alright? In the future?"

I fiddle with her apron ties, wondering. A large orange leaf lands on her forehead, and we laugh, and she kisses me again, and I don't know anything.

_I hope so, love. I hope so._


	3. gas station inflatable

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _sparring with techno as a kid_
> 
> mostly just dialogue, wilbur n techno :)

“Again.” He grins at me cockily, brushing a strand of hair behind his ear. Little gold hoops dangle from his pointed ear, newly pierced. (Mum will be so mad. She almost had a fit over the nose-ring already. But according to Techno,“What she doesn’t know can’t hurt her.”) He lifts the blunt axe away from my neck; he’s barely broken a sweat.

“How did you do that?” I mutter, exasperated. He laughs.

“Practice.”

I roll my eyes. “Seriously, Techno,” My voice sounds whiny, like a child. “It’s like you’re fucking magic or something.”

“Do you kiss your mother with that mouth?” he says, dry as ever. I roll my eyes again.

The dull metal of the axe glows silver as he twirls it between his fingers. I readjust the straps of my chestplate, yanking the buckle frustratedly. “Why am I so bad?”

He scoffs. “You’re not that bad.” He pulls me to my feet, picking a leaf out of my hair. “You’re going to break the strap, Will.” I ignore him.

“Here, let me do it.” He makes to do it for me, but I jerk away.

“I can do it myself!” I say, wincing.

“Okay _big man_ ,” he says in an awful impression of Tommy.

I glare at him.

He sighs. “Come on, let’s go again.”

Dramatically as I can muster, I look up at him and wail like someone’s just died. “My arms hurt!”

Techno raises his eyebrows at me. He doesn’t buy it for a second. “And you’re making my head hurt. Look, you’re not gonna get any better if you don’t practice.”

“Okay, okay!” I snap, resting my hands behind my head and scrunching my eyes closed. With a sigh, I reach down to pick the muddied blade out of the ground. Techno’s axe makes a swish sound as he swipes it through the air. He drags his hair out of the loosening ponytail and gathers it again, deftly plaiting it. Small strands of pink fringe curl around his eyes.

“Do you think anyone’s ever cut their hair with an axe, Techno?”

He lets out a short monotone laugh, twisting the strands around his index finger. “How do you think I cut my fringe?”

“Tekky.” I gape at him. “You didn’t.”

“I did.” He tugs his fingers through the choppy fringe. “Tommy said I wouldn’t.”

“Technooooo,” I moan. “Why would you listen to anything Tommy says.”

He shakes his head. “Don’t ask me. I was trying to get him to go to bed and I was showing him some tricks with it, and he just dared me.”

“Doesn’t mean you have to do it just because he dared you.”

“Will,” he says, “I’m not going to lose a bet to Tommyinnit of all people.”

“Fair enough.”

“Anyway,” he swings the braid behind his shoulder, “Stop stalling. Fight with me.”

A bead of blood runs down my forearm, staining the cuff of my shirt a brownish-red. I swing the sword back and forward, testing its weight.

“Want me to use the wooden axe?”

I tilt my head to the side, irritated. ”It’s fine.”

He cocks his eyebrow, grinning. “I’m just saying.”

“Just fight me, for fuck’s sake.”

“Whatever you say, sir,” he looks down at me, smirking.

He’s barely taller than me anymore, despite the two year age gap. When he started wearing heeled boots, everyone just assumed he was going for the Billy the Kid, rugged outlaw sort of look. But I  
know better.

He readies his axe hand, waiting.

“Okay,” Taking a deep breath, I lean forward, steadying myself. “One, two, three, go.”

Techno feints left, then steps back, swinging his arm round to meet my sword. I aim a jab at his stomach, but he darts to the right, slicing through the cloth of my sleeve.

“You have to defend as well as attack,” he says, parrying a careless thrust. “I could’ve taken your arm off there if I’d wanted to.”

“Shut up,” I mutter under my breath.

“And move more. You fight like a gas station inflatable.”

I shake my head, bemused. _Whatever the fuck that means_. I manage to push him back slightly, keeping my sword close to my chest. He whips around me with dizzying speed, and I can barely block his advances, let alone land my own. A piece of hair falls over my face, obscuring my vision for a second. Techno dives on the opportunity, jabbing the axe’s eye into my stomach. I trip backwards and land, winded, in the dirt.

“That wasn’t fair!”

Techno runs his braid through his hand, mussing up his fringe. “Not my fault. You can’t afford to let your guard down, even for a second.”

“Oh. Right, sorry.”

“Don’t worry. Do you wanna go again?” He offers me his gloved hand.

I grin, springing to my feet, landing blows to the sides of his chest. Stumbling backwards, he clumsily readies his axe again.

“Will...” he mutters, breathless.  
I aim a sharp kick at his shins, and at the same time he slips on a piece of uneven ground, his armour rattling as he hits the muddy grass. I’m fighting dirty, I know, but it’s worth it to see that self-assured mask to slip for a second. I point the sword at his neck, smirking. He blinks, taken aback.

“You can’t afford to let your guard down, even for a second,” I say, mimicking his flat, deep voice.

He rolls his eyes. “Touché.” I half-expect him to jump up and fight back as I did, but he stays on the ground, adjusting his leather gloves.

“Do you want to go again?”

“Nah. I’m alright,” he says.

I roll my eyes. He’s always like this. When he’s doing well, he’s always up for it, but as soon as I land a hit he’s suddenly “too tired” and it’s “getting late”.

“Boys!” Phil calls from the house. “Dinner!”

I grab Techno’s arm, pulling him to his feet. He raises his eyebrows at me. “Not too shabby.”

“I’ve been practising with Tommy.”

“Yeah, I can tell. You were a bit more aggressive and unpredictable this time. I think if you tighten up your moves a bit you’ll really improve.”

“Thanks.” I give him a small smile, looking at the ground. He never compliments me.

“Will! Techno! Your dinner’s getting cold!” Phil shouts.

“I know!”

He grins as I turn back to him.

“Perhaps one day I’ll take you down properly.”

He lets out a short, deep bark of a laugh, colder than usual, and looks at me. Something’s changed. “Sure, sure. I hope for your sake Wilbur that it never comes to that.” And he turns away, walking back towards the house, axe swinging from his waist. Something scares me about the way he said it, like it was more than just an offhand comment. Like he had thought about it. The laugh, bitter and sad. The tired look on his face. The deadened glint in his eyes. Like he was serious.

 _Shut up_ , I think. _Nothing’s going to happen. We’re family. He would never try to hurt you or Tommy_. I brush the thought out of my mind, running to catch up with Techno as he opens the back door.


	4. plastic jellyfish

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _the taste of salt, air in my lungs, the wind_
> 
> just some dumb sbi and a little angst

The room feels as far from the sea as you could be—dark, underground, closed off from the world. I’d wished it could’ve been by it, that I could’ve lived to see it one last time. But if I close my eyes I can imagine I’m there. Blood seeps, thick and salty onto my tongue. Cold bright air rushing around my ears, deep lungfuls of the stuff. Shallow, rasping breaths. My mind seems to clear slightly.

*

Dark winter skies. It’s early, only 5 or 6, but the sun is already dropping, leaving the sky black and lifeless. It gets cold quick now, no chance for late nights on the beach like in summer. Tommy crashes into the sea again, white-faced and shivering.

“He’s going to catch a cold,” Techno deadpans, looking up from his copy of _the Ego and Its Own_.

I look out to the sea. Green-grey waves roll lazily onto the shoreline. There’s a certain stillness to it all, a distance, some strange dreamlike quality. Street lamps burn brighter tonight, orange coronas of light haunting my eyes long after I look away.

Tommy rushes out of the waves. His shirt is soaked and translucent, trousers heavy with water. He shouts something to us, but we’re too far up the beach, and the wind is strong tonight. I shake my head at him—“I can’t hear you.”

“I think he said come here.”

“Come!” he shouts again, voice fighting with the wind.

I allow him to tug me to the water’s edge, Techno sighing and following behind. He stands several feet away from the dark border of sand that marks the tide. He’s never liked the water.

“What."

Tommy grins, eyes bright, mouth red with cold. The sea sweeps around our ankles, dragging the sands and stones from under my feet. It’s so cold it hurts.

“Jellyfish,” he says, breathless. “Look, there’s loads of them.”

Tiny see-through jellyfish, floating on the surface of the sea. They look more like plastic bags than creatures.

“Do you think they’d sting me, Will?”

Techno snorts, not looking up from his book. “Yes. They’re probably very poisonous. You’ve got ten minutes at most.”

I roll my eyes. Tommy looks at him, trying to work out whether he’s being sarcastic or not.

“You’ll be fine. Just don’t like...eat them or something.”

“Oh no, don’t tell him not to do it, now he’s definitely going to do it.” 

“Hey!” Tommy punches Techno on the arm. Techno glares at Tommy, shifts his glasses up his nose and keeps reading.

Tommy splashes me with water, and I splutter—”what the fuck man, you got it in my mouth”—Techno gives Tommy a warning look that says _if you want to wake up with all your limbs tomorrow, don’t fucking try it_ and I shove him hard, laughing as he struggles to keep his head above the waves.

“Fuck you,” he spits. But he’s grinning.

I roll my eyes and turn away.

“We should head back before it gets any colder.”

A loud, theatrical sniff from behind me. Techno eyes me, eyebrows raised. “Mum’s going to kill me.”

“It’s not like you could’ve stopped him.”

Air in my lungs. Salt on my tongue. The wind, harsh and unfaltering, tugging at blue lips and streaming eyes.

*

Red dots have bloomed in my peripheral. I squeeze my eyes shut.

Behind my eyes, it’s burning scarlet. The fire is a hundred thousand times louder—the burn and crackle, the heat, so fierce I can almost feel it. I can hear shouting below me, a blinding ring in my ears. Phil clears his throat.

 _The rush of the waves, in, out, in, out. White lace against the damp sand._  
No ocean in hell. I take a deep breath, blood clogging my throat. _I wish I could’ve seen it one last time._


End file.
